


Personal Essays

by xoxogracexo



Category: Biography - Fandom, shortstories - Fandom
Genre: Essay, Humor, Nightmares, Other, Random - Freeform, Sad, embarrassingstory, freewrite - Freeform, irrationalfears, schoolwritings, shortstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:25:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxogracexo/pseuds/xoxogracexo
Summary: Personal works written at school and transferred here or were written in my free time.





	1. My Biggest Regret

**_ (This is just a personal narrative I just wrote in my English class and my English teacher loved it so I thought I would like to share it with you guys) _ **

_These look nothing like hers_  I thought while looking in the mirror. My former untamed, slightly bushy brows were now two short, tiny lines that were attached above my eyes. Little did my nine-year-old self know that I would regret this the rest of my life. I could never let my parents know that I had shaved the ends of my brows.

After I dragged myself to the car, I kept my nose in my book the majority of the car ride, trying to cover my mistakes every chance I could, but I eventually had to stop, as I was pushed out of the vehicle with my dad and older brother.

I was forced to look around in the fishing shop. No book could save me now from the embarrassment I was about to face.

My dad was taking a quick restroom break while my brother and I were walking around, making small conversation.

"I bet you'd totally wear this hat," he said teasingly and pulled out pulled out a bright pink hat from the shelves.

I would usually laugh and throw the hat on him, but I only took a quick glance at the hat and turned my attention back to the ground.

He turned to look down towards me, and I tried to swiftly turn my head away to keep him from noticing, but it was too late.

"What did you do to your eyebrows?" he asked as he squinted eyes.

"What? What do you mean?" I tried to bluff, but he could tell.

"If you won't tell me then I'll just tell dad when he comes out," he said as he tried to sway me into giving in, but all I could do was deny. Deny, deny, deny.

Sometime after our dad came out, he called him over and pointed to my eyebrows...well lack of them.

His eyes widened. "What did you do?" he almost yelled.

"Nothing, nothing. They were already like this," I lied, but he didn't believe me either.

Every time he would ask me the same question, I wanted to tell him why, but I knew it would only cause me more trouble than I was in now.

"Alright, if you can't tell me then you're gonna have to talk to your mother about this. She's going to pick you up in a few minutes," he sighed as I started to mentally panic.

I knew that as soon as I got in that van I would regret it.

As soon as I sat as far away from her, I was prepared for what exactly she would ask, but I wasn't prepared for what was after it.

"You better tell me now exactly what happened, and if you don't, you're going to be grounded for the rest of your life. You won't be able to do anything until those eyebrows are completely grown back. So, why did you shave your eyebrows?"

I sat in silence briefly, contemplating on whether or not I would tell her and what exactly would I tell her.  _Tell her. Don't tell her. Tell her. Don't tell her. Tell her. Don't tell h-_

"She did it!" I blurted and peered out of the car window. I couldn't meet her gaze. I knew if I looked up in the mirror she would make me feel even more guilty than I already felt now.

"Who did it? Who told you to shave your eyebrows?" she questioned.

I decided to deepen my excuse even more. "My friend Olivia told me to do it. When we were at Isabella's, they all were talking about how I would look prettier with smaller eyebrows,"

"Oh, that's bull! You should know better than to listen to what your friends tell you to do. I'm very disappointed in you," she groaned, and I finally looked over to my mother. She had her forefinger and her thumb pressed against the bridge of her nose in a sign of frustration.

"So...am I still going to be grounded?" I asked in a small voice.

She met my gaze through the rear-view mirror and squinted her eyes before she started to scream.

"You think you're not going to get grounded because you told the truth? The only way you wouldn't be grounded is if you didn't shave them off in the first place! Grace Elizabeth Danback, you are going to be grounded till those eyebrows fully grow back and even then you're still going to be grounded! I am so furious with you young lady I could just scream!" she shouted.

As I slumped down into my seat and started reading again but was interrupted by my mother again.

"Give me that book! You don't get to read after what you've done!" she roared as she climbed back to my seat just to snatch the book out of my hand.

I slumped even further down now, beginning to tear up and silently cry the whole way back. All I wanted now was for them to grow back, but I didn't know that I had ruined my eyebrows for the rest of my life and that they truly would never be the same.


	2. My Worst Nightmare...Literally

So maybe you might not be a fan of Markiplier or any of his crew, but if you are I think you will understand and might be a little scared like I am right now. 

Now, this nightmare has nothing to do with monsters, blood, or anyone dying like a usual nightmare would go. This one is a little bit more of an irrational fear and it doesn't quite start out as a nightmare either. 

If you are a fan of Markiplier you would know that he has already finished his October part of his You're Welcome tour (and maybe you're not but that's fine) but he is going to be coming back on January 3rd...which is the one I'm currently going to go to. Now I begged my parents to let me go and they let me go on one condition. If I used it as my birthday present. Some of you may think it's a little unfair, but it's just more ironic. My birthday is on the 6th which is three days after so I have a plan of some sorts. 

What I hope and truly wish will happen is that during question time, somehow and someway they will choose me to ask one of the questions and I would like to ask them if they could wish me a happy birthday in advance since my birthday is so close and it would mean a lot to me. BUT knowing me, I always kinda put myself down at times and say that it won't happen and this nightmare is kinda like that but even worse in my opinion. Anyways, you probably just want to read my stupid dream/nightmare or whatever you wanna call it. Let's begin.

I was sitting on my bed reading when all of a sudden a thought pops into my head that there's something important going on today. I go to the calendar in my kitchen and see:  _TAKE GRACE TO GO SEE MARKIPLIER SHOW  _circled on the 3rd of January. Weirdly enough when I go outside it seems like its summer even though it should be almost in the negatives at the time. When I'm outside I immediately tell my dad and we rush to get our things together and head out to the venue, not even changing into nicer clothes than the ones we are wearing. Sadly my mom can't come so it's just me and him tonight.

Somehow my dad and I got split up from each other and I couldn't find him. As I was in the theatre I instantly saw Amy and Kathryn at a table with plaster masks that were painted. The table was also empty as so was the theatre which was also very weird being early, considering that I had just remembered to go to this show. Kathryn gives me one of the masks and they tell me that I just put down any questions that I would like answered. Instead of just writing it down on the mask I decided to tell both of them about how my birthday is near and that I would love it if they could say happy birthday to me or something of that matter. They say that they'll make sure that it happens and I finally find my dad again.

 When we show the lady our tickets to be seated she told us to go upstairs in the upper level of seating. I was straightaway confused because I originally thought we had seats in the lower far right section, but it turns out I was wrong. My dad acted like our seats were fine and that our seats weren't somehow switched. He tells me to calm down and gives me some money to go buy a shirt or something from the merch stands.

As I reach my way down the stairs, it's now packed with people all surrounding the table and with people in little groups in the main lobby. I go snaking my way through people and go looking through everywhere when I find a door slightly open enough to see the majority of the crew sitting down on a couch and some chairs. I also see my old bus driver and former elementary school lunch lady standing in front of them with a clipboard and I assume she's their tour manager in some way. 

She gets them all quiet and announces, "So listen up you guys. Amy and Kathryn have just told me that a girl named Grace wants you guys to sing Happy Birthday to her because her birthday is near."

I hear a few sighs and she goes on, "I know, I know. I get it, but we have to alright? Just let the poor girl get what she wants<," she finishes and they all nod their heads in somber agreement. 

My heart is trying not to break because I know they'll definitely say it but they don't really mean it. Just as I turn away to hurry back to my seat I brush up against something and notice it was Mark, the guy that now I felt a little different about but I still was a little awestruck by it as he gave a quick apology. 

After I got to my seat my dad gave me a strange look as I handed him back his money without anything else in my hands. I shrugged my shoulders, not wanting to tell him I knew a lot more than I wanted to down there. We waited for what it seemed like hours before the lights dimmed and there was a bright light on the stage. The drums roll until a dark-haired man in a suit comes out and shows himself out to the crowd. 

At first, I thought it was Mark of course, but it turns out to be some phony comedian doing standup. We watch for awhile and after a half hour, he finally informs us that Mark will eventually come on stage in a little less than an hour. 

From before we both were in a hurry and didn't wear something nice so I decided and surprisingly got my dad to drive me home to change even though it takes almost an hour to get to home. I take extremely long, taking about 30 minutes just to pick out my outfit, but it's nothing compared to my dad. He decides to not only change but take a shower before and eat a meal after.

After I remind him that we need to get back I huff back down on my bed and start to read again. As I'm reading I decide to curl up a little in my throw blanket and wrap it around me, but as I'm doing that an unknown person yanks the comforter off and wraps it all around my bed before shoving me off of my bed, next to the wall. I can hear footsteps and voices so I decide not to immediately throw the suffocating blanket off me and try to scrunch up into a little ball. 

This voice is familiar to me but for some reason, I don't want it finding me so I try to scoot my way under the bed. As I'm making my last slide under I feel a grasp as the blankets are pulled off me, but I don't get to see who this mystery person/thing is because I wake up and hear myself breathing very hard. 

This is really my biggest fear because it's everything that I would imagine would go wrong at the show and it kinda still scares me but also is relieving at the same time. It's relieving because since I experienced it in a dream I feel like I won't experience it at the real show. It also kinda scares me because I knew my question was being answered (even though they didn't really care for it) and maybe this is telling me that I won't have the chance to get my question answered. 

I mean I won't even really know until I actually go to the show, but I know that even if I don't get the chance to ask I will still hopefully get to have a great time just being there with my parents. 

I basically put this down just to see what if this would scare you given the circumstance of everything going wrong and what you guys thought that this would or wouldn't increase my chances of getting to ask my question. I also would like to know if anyone has had any similar dreams/nightmares or they would just like to share their worst nightmare with me.


	3. Mourning for All

_100 word memoir_

There wasn't a person in that building that didn't have tear-stained eyes, including me. It didn't hit me as hard until the day I saw her.

Her eyes closed, glasses perched on the nose, and laid still with all of her favorite things. Every step of the way to her grave, I could feel the tears stream down my face as the cold air blew through the cemetery.

Shivering bodies circled her casket with crumpled tissues stuffed in their faces. Even though she was at peace, I knew my family wasn't.


	4. M&M’s at Christmas

As I stare longingly at the infant in this monochrome photo, I can go back to the day in that very exact moment. 

Christmas at Nana's was always our tradition even before I was around. 

As my mother carries me into the house, I can detect the scent of goodies and various dishes that fill the kitchen.The various lights sparkle on the tree and the vibrant colors of the wrapping paper;I suddenly had the urge to touch it all.

After my mother set me down, I start to dart towards the tree before I suddenly whip my head to the pops of color that shown through the glass dish. 

I slowly waddle my way to the coffee table until I'm face to face with the bowl of small colorful chocolates.I can't help but wonder what their texture feels like, so I decide to find out for myself.I instantly drop my hand like a claw into the bowl and search around aimlessly, admiring the feel of the soft candy. 

As I pick up and drop them repeatedly, I feel the presence of my nana watching me as she sits down on the chair.Before I can turn to smile up at her, I hear a quick click noise, and I'm blinded by a white light.


	5. A Quitter is a Quitter

According to my mom, I'm known as one of the many quitters of my family. Every single one of my siblings has dropped out of college even with my parent's 'never-ending support' and has lived in and out of the house constantly. It only made sense when I started to become one at a young age as well.

It seemed easy to my mom to put me in soccer considering "if the boys loved it, you should love it too!" Yet, I hated everything about it. The pushing, the screaming, the kicking, the running; everything.I couldn't even stand the smell the musty grass air even in the chilly weather. Finally, one day I just couldn't take it.

Our coach was yelling at every single one of us while most of the kids were in the wrong positions, scraping at the dirt with their cleats. I was one of the few that tried to listen to him, but it wasn't worth it when the rest of the team was the opposite. I had to deal with their stupidity for the whole season, however, this time was enough. I had to do something to let us win.

As the referee set up the ball I got into position; well, somebody else's position, and right after I heard the whistle I ran up to the ball kicked it as hard as I could. It seemed that luck was not on my side as the ball hit off of my cleat to the opponent's knee and up to my face. The whistle blew as I held my nose in my hand. As the blood trickled down my nose and rested upon my lips, I was sent off of the field and onto the bench. With my face burning in the ice-cold wind by my coach, ready to blow a fuse, I was lucky enough to get my parent's pity to let me quit.

Softball: some of the worst memories of my life. I knew I wanted to quit the day of tryouts. At first, it started out fine; I was going through the regular shifts they had to measure our skills and I was in an acceptable position. I already knew I wouldn't be good as most of the players since I didn't dedicate my whole life to it, but I could manage until I was up to bat. I couldn't hit a ball to save my life and now I knew my life was over as soon as I would miss that ball in front of everyone.

I shakily walked up to the batter's box and gripped my bat as hard as I could. I needed to hit something. 2 balls, 3 balls, 4 balls, and none of them had ever bounced off of my bat.

"This is it! This time you'll knock it out of the park!" my coach tried to reassure me before he threw the ball, but I still felt nervous.

I prepared my stance and form and as he threw the ball, I swung my bat as far out as I could. I squeezed my eyes shut as I could hear the crack that echoed through the air. Pain suddenly washed over me as I quickly but carefully dropped my bat and pulled the glove off of my left hand. My red and swollen middle finger was already turning purple as I stood there, holding back the tears so no one else would see me cry.

The field was suddenly quiet for a moment before I burst into tears as my dad rushed me off along with the coaches. Soon after I went home, my parents and I could both tell that it was definitely broken. So much for it being a softball. I knew then that I would never come back the same as I would always have a grudge against the sport for as long as I lived. Sport two: quit.

Girl Scouts is full of false advertising. Those girls you see on those boxes aren't actually happy. They're dragging themselves through it just to get the free future education. It was something I could not do. It was of the many things that my mother thought that I would LOVE, but it was completely the opposite. It seemed easy at first. Making small crafts, eating constant snacks, and bonding with new friends, but soon that would turn into making independent projects, healthier snacking, and hating all of my peers all too quickly.

One meeting, in particular, was the cause of this undeniable hate for the club. It was my turn to teach the lesson and I was already nervous to talk in front of everyone, but my mother wasn't helping either.

"Get the snacks ready! Be extra nice to all the girls even if they aren't! Memorize the lesson!" she yelled, barking orders at me.

I could do none of those things perfectly. The stress and anger were building already and they weren't even here yet. As they came in, I was scolded once again for my "rude behavior" when I wasn't there to open the door for everyone. I could feel the blazing glares from both girls and parents; judging to see if I was as perfect as my mother. I wasn't. As I stumbled over the instructions on my lesson worksheet, I could hear the snickers and mock that started from one girl that eventually spread to the rest of the troop as I finished. My cheeks were already burning and I was growing with frustration as I handed out the papers to the rest of the girls.

I trudged my way to the kitchen to grab the cheap, disgusting snack cakes, but my mother stopped me as she gripped my wrist.

"You make sure you ask all of the parents if they want a snack and be extra nice to them," she ordered.

At this point, I was entirely done with her and everyone else in that room. Before I could stop myself, I slung the snacks across the table, took a deep breath, and stormed into my room before anyone could say anything. I was so completely frustrated, embarrassed, and exhausted of them that I stuffed the pillow in my mouth to keep myself from letting everyone hear me scream.

Later that night, my mother had made me write out an apology letter to both her and my other troop leader. From that moment, I hated anything that had to do with Girl Scouts until I was finally able to quit years later. I was hopeful I wasn't pushed into another sport I would despise and fear to be a part of. That hope was crushed all too quickly.

It was already hard enough to be in a team full of guys who saw you as some outsider that didn't fit into the athletic clique, but with the coaches constant sermons and practices inside an actual church, it seemed like I was Satan himself when I rolled my eyes and dreaded everytime we were led into prayer.

The only thing I was thrilled about was finally finishing the season with our last game. I was on the bench almost every chance the coach could get; the only reason I wasn't on there the entire game was that they wanted everyone to have a fair chance.

While I was enjoying my time, watching snoozing parents, hearing the little kids roars of laughter as they were playing, and the smell of over-buttered popcorn, I was jabbed in the shoulder by one of my teammates.

"We gotta switch. Go, get out there!" he yelled as I stumbled onto the court.

My chill, relaxing state was nowhere to be found as I ran back and forth to either side of the court, confusedly. The last 30 seconds upon us. I pushed my way through to our offensive side of the court as I was waiting for one of them to shoot the ball when one of them passes it to ME.

I suddenly froze for a second before I struggled to push the ball up. With no miracle happening, it bounced off of the backboard quickly as the other team took the ball and zoomed across the court to make the winning shot.

Of course, it's my fault we lose. I'm given death stares and cold shoulders as I walked with my head down in shame. I sniffled and cried all the way home, blaming myself for the loss, before I had a sudden realization; I hadn't entirely lost. I had quit! I was free of basketball! I had quit four sports already and was sure I wouldn't be dragged into anything else...right?

People who run for fun are crazy, and I was definitely not one of those people. Every practice and every meeting was just about one thing: running. Just running. The constant pain and weariness I felt at every practice made me excited to do my homework. The very first meet I was in I knew I wanted to be out of the sport forever.

The chilly morning wind was not helping my nervous energy. I had stuffed a bagel and banana in my face to keep myself energized, but it would soon be something I regretted. As we warmed up, my nerves were only rising as I felt the bile rise to my throat but I managed to push it down. My heart was beating out of my chest as we took our mark, readily waiting for the gun to go off.

As the sudden pop of the gun was echoed throughout the park, I wanted to run back the other way, but I had to push through it, sadly. Through lap one I was already walking in some areas. I gave death looks to anyone pushing me to run. As I was going through my second and final lap, that bagel and banana I had eaten earlier were starting to come back up, threatening to stop and slow me down. On top of that, the big mud pile at the bottom of the hill was too big for me to get out of the way, but just in time for me to get my shoes trapped.

After seconds passing and a long struggle, I luckily managed to pull both of my shoes out, but I was now trudging my way through the finish line. I had collapsed a little way after letting everything go and I mean everything. I promised myself after that exhausting mess that I would never ever put myself through anything like that after the season was over.

I was officially a quitter now.


End file.
